


The Angsty Bits

by MotleyMoose



Series: Letterkenny [1]
Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Implied Violence, Oh Canada, farm life, hurt and in need of help, rural life, surprise family reunion, what happens before or after the actual plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotleyMoose/pseuds/MotleyMoose
Summary: What happened after you get beat up by degens from upcountry
Series: Letterkenny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794889
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. What Friends Are For

**Author's Note:**

> Why is this so angsty?!?!?!
> 
> I sat down to write some Mandalorian fluff and this came out instead. You'll just have to wait for that one, I guess???????
> 
> This isn't my first Letterkenny fic, but it's the first one I've posted before. And don't worry, Squirrelly Dan will make an appearance in another (hopefully much happier) fic in the near future!

It’s really much too late in the night, but Darry is there. He’s barely awake, squinting and yawning as he guides his van towards the old highway, and you can’t help but think what you did to deserve such a good, selfless friend.

By the time you pull into the driveway, the sun highlights the hills and the yard light winks off. Wayne is the first one there to get you out and carry you through the house to the darkened den. Soft hands tuck you into the cozily worn couch, and softer whispers float over your ears. Apologies and curses intertwine as Katy cleans the cuts and tends the bruises, her brightly flitting hands making quick work of the degens’ ugly contribution to your skin.

You sleep the sleep of the damned, your body healing itself one painfully hesitant step at a time. It’s a restless, agonizing morning, and you’re more than thankful when Wayne interrupts your fidgety feigned sleep with a cup of coffee and a couple aspirin. It’s the comforting, careful weight of him easing onto the opposite end of the couch that finally relaxes the fizzy ends of your nerves, and you sigh as his presence displaces the heavier burden of your heart.

He doesn’t ask you much of anything, just the beige-colored chitchat you normally can’t stomach; but he knows talking about the harvest is easier on your brain than repainting the night’s events with words. Croaking out a thank you wouldn’t hurt much, but it’s more than you want to test at the moment. And you aren't up for the uncomfortable conversation sure to follow finding your voice. You can’t see the black scowl set in his features but you know it’s there by the tap of scarred knuckles on denimed thigh.

And you hope against all hopes that he'll let you rest in semi-peace for just a little while longer.


	2. Making the Trip to See the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part before a surprise family reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to write more fluffy crack fics for Letterkenny, but dang, for whatever reason all that funny from the show just turns to seriousness in my fics.

It couldn’t have been more than ten years since you had been back out to your uncle’s farm. The scenery on the drive out there was almost the same as it had always been, maybe just a little more rundown and weedy in certain areas that hadn’t been too great to begin with. Cows and sheep dotted the rolling pastures and the spring wheat and barley were on the verge of turning. With windows rolled down and the radio off, you wended your way through the Canadian countryside, in no particular hurry to get to where you needed to go.

You hadn’t talked to any of your family from Up North since your uncle had died. Between your immediate family dramas and working through college for a useless degree, there hadn’t been time for even a casual social media stalk. Self-doubt and worry had been creeping up on you since you’d crossed the border from the US into Canada, but memories of how welcoming everyone up here was pushed all of those thoughts back into their dank cesspool. Even if they weren’t as friendly as you remembered, at least you got a fun roadtrip out of the deal.

It was nigh on dusk when you finally pulled into the drive. The produce stand was still where it always had been, the yard was surprisingly uncluttered (probably due to the fact that your cousins didn’t sit well with junk scattered everywhere), and the absence of the oppressive odor of pig shit was refreshing. Parking under the lone yard light, you got out of your car, stretched, and walked up the seven concrete steps to the back door.

You opened the storm door and rapped hesitantly on the glass of its sibling. There were no lights on inside the house, but the porch light was on, and you had the feeling that they’d be back before it got too late out; your cousins may have been hicks, but they were earth-conscious hicks and they didn’t like leaving things on when they didn’t need to.

Closing the storm door with a muffled metallic _click_ , you shuffle wearily over to the railing of the porch and peer out into the gathering night. In the distance, you can hear the coyotes begin to pick up a chorus of chattering and howling, and there’s an owl in a nearby tree, but you can’t quite see it through the gloom. The night air is still a touch chilly, so you stomp back to your car and pull out a dusty old horse blanket you keep in the trunk for emergencies; there hadn’t been an emergency yet, but the blanket had come in handy for impromptu picnics and as a barrier from the sharp North Dakota winds.

On your way back to the porch, you see light through the slats of the ancient barn that stood well off the beaten path from the house. Shrugging the blanket a little higher onto your shoulders, you follow the wispy trail of brightness in hopes of finding a spontaneous family reunion in the making.


End file.
